No, really, this year may be enough to make me walk away from the profession I love. As difficult as my first year of teaching was, it was nowhere near this stressful. I don't have a planning period, so I teach from 7:15 to 2:15 with a 25 minute (at best) lunch. I'm on an alternating schedule, so I have eight classes (four every other day) with at total of 180+ kids. To top it off, they're ALL FRESHMEN. And to top THAT off, our school is on "the list" this year because we missed graduation rate by one person. I leave work every day (never before 5:00) exhausted and pissed off. And to make matters worse, I'm never caught up when I leave. I feel like I accomplish nothing because for every task I finish, there are four or five more to do. I feel like I'm treading water and the only part of me left above the surface is my left nostril.
I'm exhausted and overwhelmed all the time. I haven't cooked dinner in almost a month. My house looks like Hurricane Gustav made a pitstop. I feel like the worst wife in the history of wives. I might be slightly consoled if I felt like I was being an effective teacher, but I don't even feel like I have a grasp of that either. We're four weeks into school and I feel almost no connection with my students. Is that my fault? Is it theirs? I don't even know. I know that it's hard to connect when I only see them every other day, but there has to be more to it.
I don't want to burn out. I know I'm called to teach (at least until I'm called to be a mommy). I'm just so frustrated right now. I was relieved when I stopped crying everyday, but now I'm just getting a little numb. I can' t teach if I'm apathetic, but I can't function if I'm ready to pull my hair out and apply for a greeter's job at Walmart. I shouldn't even be blogging. I have a stack of papers to grade that is heavy enough to activate the airbag sensor in my passenger seat. I'm just not motivated. I worked until 6:45 last night and until almost 5:00 tonight. I don't want to come home and keep working. I don't want to come home and do anything besides allowing myself to become one with the sofa.
This will get better right? I won't feel like this for the next nine months, right? Just say no. Otherwise I'm going to get myself preggers and stay home.